Chicken Soup
by dizzy - in - the - izzy
Summary: Little Lily Palmer is sick, and she just wants some chicken soup. Jimmy/Ziva friendship.


**Title: **Chicken Soup  
><strong>Author: <strong>dizzy - in - the - izzy  
><strong>Rating: <strong>K  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>This is what happens when you are supposed to be writing a letter to your English teacher and reading seventeen pages of Econ. This.

**A/N: **I've been mulling over the idea of Jimmy and Breena with kids, and more and more it's starting to grow on me. I can see a little blonde baby with blue eyes and ringlets. And I can just see Jimmy being all goofy and lovable as a father. So, don't blame me for this spawning.

Any and all errors are my own. I just typed this up in about five minutes.

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><p>Jim Palmer stands in the kitchen, staring at the microwave. He's aware that it isn't good for his already poor eyesight, but he can't get his eyes to move off the rotation of the glass. It's mesmerizing, and he finds it somewhat soothing for a moment. His head snaps up though as he hears small footsteps on the tile.<p>

"Daddy," the small voice accompanies the footsteps, and he looks down to find his three-year-old daughter staring up at him. She'd holding her favorite stuffed animal to her chest, and there's a snot bubble threatening to burst from her nose. Quickly, he grabs a tissue and tells her to blow, and another crisis is adverted. He lifts her up and lets her rest on his shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Lily, what are you doing out of bed?" he asks, and she groans a bit.

Yesterday, she'd woken up with a cough. Breena had stayed home with their daughter, and they thought she was feeling better. However, when she woke up with the same cough today, Jim told Breena to go to work, called in sick himself, and then called the doctor. The doctor had told him some things to do, and that if it was just a cold, it'd run its course and everything would be fine. So, they now play the waiting game.

"I wanted to find you," Lily says quietly into her father shoulder, and he smiles. The microwave goes off and he grabs the mug out. He tests the water with his finger, and decides to let the water sit for a moment before he makes the tea.

"I told you I'd be right back honey," he whispers, and she just sniffles. She's never been extremely clingy, but because she's sick, her want to be around one of her parents at all times is high.

"I know," she whispers, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. He smiles, moving to sit down at the table so he can relax. Her legs stay wrapped around his torso, but she falls so she's resting in his lap. Her head moves to his shirt, and he can already tell he's going to have snot stains.

"Did mommy go work?" she asks, looking up at him. He hands her another tissue, and she places it on her nose clumsily.

"Yes, she did. She'll be back later," he responds, helping her wipe her nose. She twists her face away from his hand, grabbing the tissue back and rubbing her nose herself. He smiles.

She puts the dirty tissue on the table before turning herself around in his arms, so she's curled up sideways against his chest. She holds her stuffed bunny in her hands, nuzzling her face against it. He can hear her talking to it, and smiles. The bunny was a baby shower gift from McGee, and even though she has other toys, she clings to the bunny the most.

"Can we have chicken soup?" she says with some difficulty, but he still gets the message. He looks up towards the cabinet, trying to remember how many cans of soup they have. When he can't remember, he holds her tight and stands up.

"Let's go look," he says, carrying her in one arm. She wraps her arms around his neck and watches him. They search through two shelves, and when they come up empty, she sniffs.

"No chicken soup?" she asks, and he frowns.

"Looks like it bub," he says, and she sniffs again. He can see the small tears in her eyes, and he's about to say something when the doorbell rings, alerting them that they have a visitor. She perks up, her eyes darting towards the door, and he creases his forehead.

When he opens the door, he's surprised to find Ziva there, carrying a bag and a teddy bear. Lily makes a noise that sounds like a squeal, and reaches out for her friend.

"Ziva," she says, and the agent steps inside. Jim holds his daughter back until Ziva's put her stuff on the table before letting her latch onto Ziva's neck.

"Hi Ziva," he says as Lily hugs her tightly, "I didn't expect you to show up."

Ziva simply shrugs, before motioning to the bag she's brought. Jim looks inside and finds a soup container.

"Chicken soup, for Lily. Breena said you were out, so I took an extended lunch to bring you some. She's a little busy right now, catching up I guess," Ziva says as she rubs Lily's back. Jim smiles widely, pulling the container out. Lily looks at it with a grin and reaches back for her father, who gladly takes her and sets her in her chair.

"Soup!" she exclaims, though it sounds more like 'doup'. Both adults laugh, and the little girl grins. She waits for her father to pour her a bowl and set it down, offering her a soup spoon to eat it with. She blows on the hot liquid before taking a sip, and Jim grins. He moves over to stand next to Ziva, watching his daughter carefully.

"Thanks, a lot," he says, at a loss for more words. Ziva simply nods, offering him a small smile.

"It is my pleasure. We are all worried about Lily," she says, and he looks at his daughter. She looks sleepy, but her enthusiasm about the soup in front of her makes his heart tug a bit.

"She'll be fine, once she gets some sleep and eats more soup," he says, and they both laugh. Ziva places her hand on his arm, and he looks at her. She's smiling.

"Even if we know she will be fine, we still worry," she replies quietly, and he finds himself smiling again.

He pats her back softly before turning his attention back to his daughter, who is completely unaware of the exchange going on in front of her. She's not fully aware, but she's one lucky girl.

Not every child has six NCIS agents wrapped around their finger.

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><p><strong>AN: **I tweaked the ending twice. I still don't know.

Reviews are **always** appreciated! Encouraged and all that jazz.

-Izzy


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